The great hall throbbed with noise—boots on stone, laughter ricocheting off banners, music turned just loud enough to feel brave. New Year’s Eve on base always tried to pretend it was softer than it was.

Five months with Simon Riley had taught you the quiet places. The way he stood half in shadow. The promise he made with a rare smile: Midnight. You and me.

The countdown began. Ten. Nine.

You smoothed your sleeves, heart hammering, and crossed the room. Simon waited near the front, skull mask tilted, hands clasped like he was bracing against something. When you stopped in front of him, the noise fell away. Eight. Seven.

His eyes met yours—and faltered.

Guilt creased his brow, sharp and sudden. He leaned in, voice barely a breath. “I’m sorry.”

Six. Five.

Confusion bloomed, cold and fast. “What—?”

Before you could finish, footsteps thundered behind you. A laugh—Soap’s laugh—too loud, too cheerful. Then a splash.

Freezing red liquid drenched you head to toe, soaking your hair, your clothes, dripping onto the floor in sticky rivulets. Cranberry juice. Sweet and sharp in the air. The hall exploded with shocked laughter and gasps.

Four. Three.

You stood there, stunned, crimson-stained, the promise of midnight curdling on your tongue. Simon didn’t move. He didn’t reach for you. He just looked… relieved it was over.

Two. One.

Cheers tore the room apart. Confetti fell. Someone shouted “Happy New Year!”

Soap wiped his hands on his trousers, grin fading into something awkward. “Bet’s settled,” he muttered, loud enough for you to hear. “Told you it wouldn’t last.”

The words landed heavier than the juice.

Simon finally spoke, voice stripped bare. “It was meant to be a joke. A stupid bet.” He swallowed. “I didn’t mean for it to—”

But it already had.

You turned away, footsteps squelching, the red staining a path behind you. The hall kept celebrating as if nothing had happened. As if five months could be washed away with a bucket and a laugh.

Outside, fireworks cracked the sky open—bright, brief, and gone—marking a new year you hadn’t planned to start like this.